


the decade meian shuugo spent in unrequited love (as well as the one night he didn't)

by moriturism



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Inunaki Shion/Adriah Tomas, Pining, Second Button Fic, Shuugo is hopeless at love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriturism/pseuds/moriturism
Summary: In which everyone thinks cool and composed Shuugo could not be as volleyball obsessed and bad at love as his younger teammates, but he’s just really good at hiding it.
Relationships: Meian Shuugo/Hirugami Fukuro
Comments: 15
Kudos: 129





	the decade meian shuugo spent in unrequited love (as well as the one night he didn't)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, if Furudate isn't going to give us a backstory for the rest of the teams I'll do it myself.
> 
> For that unfamiliar, in Japan giving someone the second button of your school uniform is considered a confession: the second button of the uniform is the closest to the heart so it's like "giving" them your heart.  
> Enjoy!

Meian Shuugo truly was jealous of the monster generation.

He supposed all of his age group, only half a decade or so older than the prosperous youngsters, shared this sentiment; but some days Shuugo felt green envy burn through his veins, boiling up just under the surface of his skin.

It was easy to push away these negative thoughts when he saw Atsumu moping over a bad reaction to a joke, or Hinata cheering about his favorite show. It was easy to love them like his own kids, realize they were just as human as him, and take care to nurture their growth.

Shuugo had long learned that being captain was never really about being in the spotlight. Still, he made sure that his team stayed humble.

“I can’t believe they forgot my ‘Bokuto Beam’ team!” Bokuto bemoaned as he read another article about their recent game.

“That’s what’s concerning you?” Inunaki hissed in response, distraught at the disastrous cropping of their starting lineup image that had him beheaded and missing half his torso.

Shuugo huffed a laugh, ready to take his place as the resident problem-solver. “Now, let’s settle down,” he smiled, wincing at how old his voice sounded in comparison. “You should be grateful. Y’know when I was--”

“ _We know,_ ” Sakusa cut him off, not raising his head from his phone. “Back in _your_ day, when dinosaurs roamed, you were lucky to have even made it into a division three team out of university.”

Shuugo could only sputter in response as Tomas and Inunaki snickered next to each other. 

Maybe the story had gotten a bit stale, Shuugo mused, but it was still important to him. After all, two of his younger teammates had skipped university completely in favor of playing volleyball professionally. Shuugo couldn’t imagine how reckless he would've been if he was uselessly skilled at the sport so early on.

No, Meian Shuugo climbed his way up from concrete to become captain. He had full intentions to pursue a career in something-or-other that he wasn’t passionate about while providing for his fiance at the time when he was scouted by the Tamaden Elephants. They weren’t a popular team, by any means, and they were only division three, but they were a _team._ A real paying team, with which he could imagine supporting a family and still being happy.

Shuugo imagined it was easy to be passionate about volleyball when you were good at it. Atsumu and Bokuto seemed to be working nonstop since they were in high school, never pausing to think or breathe. But Shuugo never had the luxury of talent pushing him forward.

No, he had something far better.

* * *

Shuugo never really questioned why he played volleyball until he met his muse. Up until he’d entered high school, he played because someone at one point or another told him that he should and never bothered to stop.

By the time he reached high school, he’d already come to the sobering realization that there would _always_ be someone better than him, no matter where he went. It was hopeless aiming for the top, so what was the point?

Enter his muse, walking through the gym doors with the sunlight flowing from behind him. He glowed and Shuugo thought he saw a deity in front of him, ethereal and untouchable.

A few introductions later and Shuugo was quick to learn that they were in the same year and even played the same position. Shuugo was ready to resign with quiet futility, certain he’d be a far better player than him. _He cares more,_ Shuugo noted, _and he's awfully built._

He wasn’t wrong, really. His muse was not only beautiful but also an incredible player—and for some reason, it didn’t bother him the same way all of his defeats in junior high had.

“Why do you play volleyball?” Shuugo found himself asking once during a water break. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud—especially with the blunt tone the question took—but oftentimes his mouth and brain didn’t connect when his muse was around.

Shuugo fully expected to be ignored or pacified, not having spoken much with him before this, but was met by a shining bright smile.

“Well, initially I joined because my parents are both pro, so it just felt natural,” he replied, voice sweet as honey. “What about you, Shuugo?”

Shuugo wondered if he could tell how warm his palms were or see his throat tightening up, but if he could his fellow middle-blocker made no sign to show it.

“I’m not sure,” was Shuugo’s stuttering reply, before quickly adding, “Do you think you’re better at volleyball because your parents are pro?”

The stranger—were they not strangers anymore? They certainly weren’t friends, yet —stroked his non-existent beard as he pondered over the question. “Probably, yeah,” he settled on. “But they’re not why I _keep_ playing, you know?”

“Why do you keep playing?” Shuugo rushed to ask. Surely their water break would be ending soon.

“To win,” his muse shrugged as if it was the simplest answer in the world.

It probably was to him, Shuugo thought. After all, he was probably raised breathing volleyball. Shuugo couldn’t compare.

Before he could respond, the boy in front of him was laughing. Shuugo couldn’t help but be mesmerized with the way his shoulders bounced and chest heaved, light as a feather. He looked so _comfortable_ where he stood. “You don’t need a reason to play,” his muse explained. “It’s like coach says, make a habit of success and it’ll come.”

Shuugo watched the first year in front of him slowly pull his towel off his shoulders to tousle his brown hair, memorizing each tense of his veins and curve of his muscles. He wondered how it was possible to watch the whole world spin in front of him, moving at a breakneck pace, while his was paused. He wondered how one person he’d never spoken to him before could grab him by the metaphorical collar and shake up what he knew to be true.

“But don’t think that means I’ll lose to you easily,” the boy snickered, pointing to Shuugo menacingly, his eyes piercing through him. “I’ll prove on the court I’m the best middle blocker between the two of us and this whole damn country.”

Shuugo swallowed hard.

It may have been the first time he walked onto the gym feeling anticipation coursing through his veins, but it was far from the last.

* * *

When Shuugo was finally recruited to a division one team, he realized he’d chosen the wrong person to marry.

His dear wife Yua held all his firsts that should’ve mattered: first kiss, first time, first “I love you.” But Shuugo had never quite been able to shake the idea that his college sweetheart was leaving missing holes in his heart.

He’d married her anyways, which had perhaps been his first mistake. But she loved him dearly through their time in university, always bright-eyed and interesting, and Shuugo had wanted desperately to believe they could keep falling in love despite their differences.

The realization that this was _incorrect_ came when he got his results from the MSBY Black Jackals tryouts.

“I got in,” he realized in shock. “Babe, I’ve been recruited to the Jackals! I still have to accept but...wow.”

Yua looked up from where she had been reading to meet Shuugo with a confused smile. “That’s great, hon,” she cheered, not quite matching Shuugo’s enthusiasm. With little comment, she went back to reading only to look up again when her phone gave off a _bing_.

“Oh!” she exclaimed and Shuugo’s neck whipped towards her, waiting with bated breath for her to realize how _massive_ this was.

“What’s your position, again?” Yua asked instead. “My friend’s asking,” she explained with a kind smile.

Shuugo did his best not to let his own excitement falter, at least not enough to alert his wife sitting in front of him.

“Middle blocker,” he answered curtly before they both agreed to move the discussion to what they’d be eating for dinner.

Shuugo let it eat at him for a bit. If she didn’t remember his position, she probably didn’t remember the story of his first service ace or blockout. He knew she’d never particularly enjoyed listening to his volleyball stories, but she’d at least come to his games when he was available.

Still, as he pondered on it, images of a brown-haired middle-blocker kept sprouting in his mind. years of soft congratulations, acknowledgments of his growth and accomplishments, and private conversations that had his heart soaring clouded his mind.

Yua had every first of Shuugo’s that mattered to _her_ , but the ones he held dear—the ones that mattered to him— were in the hands of another person.

Shuugo sighed into his hands in the quiet of his room, his wife away working a job that he knew all the intricacies of, as he gave in to anxious resignation.

The months that followed were brutal. Shuugo couldn't help but pick up on all of Yua's habits. As his games became more frequent, she attended them less and less. Shuugo busy with practice and her own work picking up, their conversations seemed to fizzle out until they barely spoke at all. All the while Shuugo felt guilt eat him up from the inside, memories of an old flame clouding those of his own wife.

He wasn’t sure how much later it was that Yua came to him with a sports magazine in hand, face red with rage–enough at least for him to ponder over their loveless marriage and realize her hands always felt cold to his touch. Enough for him to notice that whenever they were intimate his thoughts were far away, with someone else, and it made him sick to his stomach.

“I read your interview,” she huffed indignantly. “You spent the whole time talking about some long lost inspiration from high school.” As she spoke, her composed facade slowly fell apart. “Why have I never heard about her?” Every word stung more than the last. “Do I mean nothing to you?”

Shuugo knew there was a lot he could say to her. He could tell Yua his muse had actually been a man and watch her crumble completely. He could explain to Yua that she _had_ heard about him, many times, and never cared to listen. But he wasn’t sure he could tell her, in a way that mattered to her, what was going through his heart at the time.

Instead, he handed her his divorce papers as he prepared to move out to a quaint apartment provided by the Jackals.

* * *

When his high school coach first approached Shuugo about being captain, he was strictly opposed to it.

“I’m not even the best middle blocker we have, how could I be captain?” Shuugo argued, perpetual insecurity eating him up from the inside.

But his coach was adamant on his decision.

“You’re the best choice, Shuugo, and you’re the only one who doesn’t believe it,” his muse comforted him later when he found him sulking in the clubroom. As much as Shuugo wanted to huff and be angry, he couldn’t bring himself to with the now second-year boy leaning against his side, messy brown head of hair rolled onto his shoulder.

“You should be the angriest about it,” he settled on, still relaxing into his friend’s touch. “Don’t you want to be captain?”

His muse shrugged as best he could against his shoulder. Shuugo couldn’t see it, but he could tell from his tone he wore a lazy smile, lips tugging up ever so slightly at the end. “I’m already the best middle blocker,” he teased.

“So you should be captain!” Shuugo decided.

The boy next to him pulled away at the outburst and Shuugo tried his best not to be disappointed without the heat of skin against skin. “Do you think being captain is about being good?” his muse asked, eyebrows furrowed. The distress in his voice unnerved Shuugo. “Everyone respects you, Shuugo. They listen to you. It...it _has_ to be you!” he insisted, voice rising with each syllable.

Shuugo breathed deeply, never having seen his friend become quite so unnerved. It was weirdly beautiful, to find a new side to him, but Shuugo could ponder that later.

“Sorry I upset you,” he muttered, relaxing when his muse’s hand rested on his own with a reassuring squeeze.

“Sorry I yelled,” he responded, voice uncharacteristically soft. Shuugo wished he could listen to it on repeat.

“They respect _you_ , too,” Shuugo retorted with a soft jab to his side.

“Yeah,” the return of the boy’s now-familiar smile had Shuugo losing all tension held previously. “Which is why I’ll be by your side as the _best_ vice-captain!” he declared, with a matching punch to Shuugo’s torso.

The two broke into a fit of laughter as they sat side-by-side in the clubroom, the setting sun casting an amber glow over them like children in love. Even long after the moon had risen, Shuugo couldn’t help but let his muse’s words echo over and over again in his head.

_I’ll be by your side._

How he wished that meant what he yearned for.

* * *

Being picked as captain for the Jackals had been a far simpler experience. 

Shuugo hadn’t been given much choice in the matter, truly.

Their coach waited until they had their full lineup for the season, with all new recruits, to announce who would be the new captain now that their old one had retired.

“I want it to be Meian,” Coach Foster declared, leaving little room for argument. Around him, his past teammates nodded in quiet agreement. “What do you say, captain?”

All eyes flew to him, awaiting an answer. The pressure didn’t leave any options other than _yes,_ but Shuugo still felt his eyes flutter over Oliver Barnes. Two years his senior and a powerhouse of a player, Barnes was undeniably just as qualified as Shuugo had been for the role. Still, Foster chose him.

Shuugo saw it coming a mile away, even if he didn’t admit. The coach had spent the past few weeks telling him about the new recruits, kids fresh out of high school who were part of the so-called “monster generation.” They’d be loose cannons, unjustly powerful, and require someone responsible to keep them on track. Truly, Coach Foster had been preparing him for this moment the moment he recruited Bokuto Koutarou and Miya Atsumu.

Still, before his inevitable acceptance, Shuugo let himself reminisce on an amber afternoon his second-year of high school. Swallowing any harboring insecurity, he greeted the team with a wide smile.

“Of course.”

They celebrated the new lineup feverishly that night.

Still, as their newly-crowned captain, Shuugo wanted to get a chance to specifically bond with their new members. Someone that ended him up tightly sandwiched between Atsumu and Bokuto in the team’s karaoke booth as Adriah poorly serenaded Inunaki with some foreign song they didn’t know.

“So, Bokuto,” Shuugo spoked loudly over the music. “You married?” The gold band the dual-haired man wore proudly on his finger had been staring Shuugo in the eye all day. He wanted to know.

Bokuto glowed with the question. “I’m engaged!” he cheered. “Do you want to see pictures of him?”

Under the excuse of “bonding,” Shuugo listened to Bokuto babble about Akaasi Keiji for the rest of the night, recounting stories of their time in high school as they stayed partners on and off the court. It was lovely, truly, to see him so young and in love with somehow who understood him at such a fundamental level. Shuugo couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever looked so enraptured with someone. Instead, he recalled a quietly unhappy marriage and the baggage that came with trying to love someone that didn’t love the same way as you.

By the end of the night, Shuugo found a whole new reason to be envious of the monster generation.

* * *

Under Shuugo’s captainship, Kamomedai won nationals. He still recalled it like it was yesterday.

Ironically, he hadn’t been on the court at the time, but he wouldn’t take it back for the world.

Instead, he was watching intently from the box, as he’d been rotated out. It was arguably Kamomedai’s strongest offensive formation, with Fukuro in the front where he could score easy. When he finally scored, the whole world paused for him. He hung in midair, back arched and arms of his muscle’s tense, and Shuugo watched his skin glow under the gym lights. Fukuro was a masterpiece in that moment, and pride swelled in Shuugo as he watched it form.

_Muse._

It was the first time the word called out Shuugo.

Then, as soon as it started, the moment had passed. Fukuro’s body whipped forward, hand slamming into the ball and past the blockers, officially winning the match for Kamomedai.

The cheers were deafening and all surrounding. Someone was shaking Shuugo excitedly, another person hugging him, but all he could do was stare at Fukuro in front of him.

He was glistening with sweat, chest heaving softly, but the grin on his face was _magic_. Shuugo rushed towards him, some invisible force dragging them together as the two embraced in a tight hold. For a moment, Shuugo thought he’d never let go. They fit together too perfectly for him to believe there was anywhere else in the world he belonged but in Fukuro’s arms.

Eventually, though, they had to let go to stare at each other, still breathing furiously as red-painted their cheeks.

“Did you find it?” Fukuro asked, breaking the silence between them. “Why do you play volleyball?”

Shuugo felt his breath hitch in his throat at the question, eyes blown wide from the adrenaline of the win and the fact that Fukuro was still holding tightly to his hand, grip desperate.

_You._

It would’ve been so easy for him to say. Shuugo could feel it roll off of his tongue as easy as breathing, as easy as greeting Fukuro before practice started or gripping his hands after a, particularly grueling day.

But as he drank up the sight of his best friend, equal parts love and admiration flowing through him, and Fukuro was right _there_ in front of him. It would’ve been so simple to kiss him right there, taste the sweat on his lips as the rest of the crowd disappeared.

It would’ve been perfect, undoubtedly, but Shuugo couldn’t bring himself to risk this delicate _thing_ between them.

“ _Yes_ ,” he replied to Fukuro, grip on his hand tightening. “I did.”

* * *

When Shuugo first heard about the match with the Schweiden Adlers, his first instinct was to check on his emotional younger members and make sure none of them were having their seemingly scheduled breakdown.

After all, they’d be facing former rivals from their highschool years and all had a flair for the dramatic regarding that time.

His _second_ instinct, after calming all his pupils, was to clean his apartment, a recent habit he’d picked up from Sakusa to help quell his nerves.

Shuugo didn’t want to admit to any amount of anticipation at seeing Fukuro again. Although they were connected via social media, it had been far too long since they’d properly spoken. He doubted their rekindling would be anything but a dying spark of what their relationship had been. Their rivalry wasn't as deep-rooted as his dear monsters, and they’d long said goodbye to their high school friendship.

Still, he couldn’t deny it when Inunaki pointed out he’d been harsh with his blocks, or Oliver offered to massage his tense shoulders. He tried to. He tried to push all thoughts of a lost love to the back of his mind, focusing on the game ahead of them.

But it was difficult when preparing himself as 'resident Dad' to handle all his team's leftover teenage turmoil, not to reminisce on his own unrequited love, if he could even call it that. The days went by slowly, dragging on until the match and until he'd inevitably see Fukuro again.

Shuugo was able to avoid the thought of him, as he'd learned to for the past decade since he graduated high school. He was able to avoid any past feelings welling up inside of him, any residual nerves, all up until now.

Fukuro was in front of him.

 _Of course,_ as captains of the team, they would shake before the game. _Why_ hadn't Shuugo considered this in his weeks of anguish?

Shuugo's march from the bench to the side of the net took a century, watching Fukuro match his movements. He hadn't grown much taller, instead filling out for his muscle to match his height and _finally_ managing to get some semblance of a beard he could scratch. Still, he held the same fiery passion burning within his eyes and tight-lipped smirk that Shuugo could recognize from anywhere in the crowd.

They met in front of the referee, desire blatant in their eyes. Shuugo felt his breath hitch in his chest. _This is it._ The reunion he'd been dreading had finally come.

"So you finally got to be captain," he heard himself jest, voice uncharacteristically smug.

"Well," Fukuro's expression softened just a tad. Shuugo wasn't sure anyone else would notice. "I learned from the best."

His hand came up, reaching for Shuugo's. As if on instinct, Shuugo met it, pulled to him automatically. They were magnets, or maybe planets, orbiting around one another and finally like an uninvited asteroid, they were touching. Fukuro's hand was rough against Shuugo's, just how he remembered it. His grip was tight, like a promise, and had goosebumps all over Shuugo's skin. When they finally let go, Shuugo had to consciously hold his hand back, had to keep himself from reaching out for _more._

He wondered if Fukuro felt it. How _couldn't_ he? Their touch was electric.

A coin toss from the ref pulled Shuugo's attention away from Fukuro, finally. It landed on tails. Adlers.

"We'll serve first," Fukuro declared, giving a curt nod to Shuugo. "Let's put on a great game today, Shuugo."

Shuugo answered with a wide grin he couldn't hold back if he tried. "Don't we always?"

* * *

As much as he hated to admit it, nationals wasn't Shuugo's last chance with Fukuro. He had two months following their win until the end of school, any day of which he could've confessed.

He didn't, of course, instead choosing to relish in the moments they spent together. He was far too scared to taint his memories with the sting of rejection and risk losing Fukuro altogether, even if that meant growing apart once high school was over.

Still, Shuugo was determined not to regret his time in high school, hopelessly pining over someone he could never have. He was dead set on confession at graduation.

The setting was perfect. Cherry blossoms decorated the ground under a clear blue sky. Shuugo stood proudly next to Fukuro, finding him at his side more often than not, as they watched their principal give a goodbye speech, cheering when it was finally over.

Atop the rancorous shouts of glee and crowd of overjoyed students, Shuugo found himself alone with Fukuro. They'd snuck out quietly, preferring their own traditions to the school's.

Rather than finding themselves amongst the mob, they'd retreated to a familiar clubroom where no one would bother them. As usual, laughter followed wherever they went.

Shuugo always thought Fukuro looked most beautiful when he laughed. He'd throw his head back haphazardly, gather all the air from deep in his chest, and let go of any inhibitions. He looked so _free,_ in control of himself and doing whatever he wanted 

"Fukuro," Shuugo called out quietly. "I have something to tell you."

"Yeah?" his muse turned to him, bright smile never dimming.

As if on cue, Shuugo's eyes dipped down to notice his uniform jacket. Usually, Fukuro was a bit unkempt but for graduation, he'd put himself together rather nicely. His jacket was buttoned up all the way in a neat fashion, nothing was out of place, except for the missing second button on his jacket.

Shuugo swallowed his confession, burying it deep and locking it within himself, not even hesitating to throw out the key.

He could ask who the lucky lady was, Shuugo knew Fukuro wouldn't hesitate to tell him. He claimed himself as an "open book," at least to Shuugo. But he knew it would hurt that much more to learn who the object of his affection was. After spending every waking moment by Fukuro's side, who had managed to steal him away?

Shuugo did his best to smile at the boy in front of him. Today was supposed to be a _happy_ day. This was supposed to be a celebration. He should let Fukuro be happy.

"Do you want to practice for a bit in the gym?" Shuugo settled on, a profession of love long forgotten. Fukuro agreed eagerly, because he always did when it came to Shuugo, and dragged him by the hand to rush to the gym. Shuugo met his grip tightly, hoping to never let go.

Shuugo tried to push all thoughts of the button out of his mind, but it found him again later at night when he was unpacking his school bag, only to find an extra button at the bottom.

He didn't want to be hopeful. It had probably fallen off of his own uniform or got dropped into his bag by mistake.

He never gave himself the luxury of being hopeful, not with Fukuro. He didn't want reckless abandon to ruin their delicate relationship.

He did not want to be hopeful, so he wasn't.

* * *

It was an MSBY tradition to go to karaoke after important events, like the first practice or last game of the season. As Shuugo watched his young teammates meet old rivals, he determined that today, karaoke was a necessity.

They invited the Adlers along as well, all thoughts of competition from earlier left on the court. Instead, they relished in post-game euphoria, loopy from equal parts adrenaline and exhaustion. Shuugo watched tiredly from the couch as Bokuto coerced Akaashi (he was an honorary member of the team) to sing a power ballad with him, despite being incredibly tone-deaf. As always, Akaashi agreed, only to stand there humming into the mic while Bokuto went ham.

Shuugo sighed. At least Bokuto was under control when Akaashi was around.

Shuugo had learned long ago that karaoke night was significantly less fun as a captain. Most of his energy reserves were spent trying to keep his teammates from getting them all permanently banned, and any remaining strength was used to hold up whatever his drink of choice for the night was. Fortunately, Barnes had seen him frantically glancing at the Adler's captain all night and finally got fed up with it.

"I'll handle the kids," he told Shuugo with a reassuring pat on his shoulder. "Go get him."

Shuugo had never been one to flush easily, but the way Oliver read him with ease had his cheeks turning pink. He wanted to argue there was no one to 'get' but he knew it'd be in vain. Instead, he stalked towards the couch and took a well-deserved break.

Unfortunately, Fukuro had as much trouble on his hands as Shuugo and between Hoshiumi and Romero it seemed he never got to rest. Shuugo watched him with quiet amusement as he pranced around the ruin, pitting out one fire only for another to spring up where he wasn't looking. It brought a gentle smile to Shuugo's face, seeing Fukuro resolve chaos instead of causing it.

"Come on," he stood from where he was sitting to sling an arm over Fukuro's shoulder. "They won't burn the building without you around, Fukuro, it's fine."

Shuugo almost laughed at how their roles had switched, Shuugo dragging Fukuro to relax and give up the title of captain for a short while, but one look at Fukuro's lightly flushed cheeks had Shuugo firmly shut up.

Instead, they found themselves side by side on the karaoke couch, where they could feel the stereo through the floor.

(Currently, Inunaki was trying to rap _Super Bass_ to Adriah. It really set the romantic mood.)

"So," Fukuro chuckled forcefully, tension thick enough for a knife to cut. "I know I'm late, but congrats on your marriage. I'm sorry I never made it to your wedding." Shuugo wanted to laugh at the strain in his voice as if saying those words took all the effort of blocking a spike. 

"You are awfully late," Shuugo teased, gaze gentle. "So late that you missed the divorce."

Fukuro froze, fear evident in his eyes as he struggled to respond. Shuugo finally let himself laugh, giggles rising unceremoniously from his chest. Fukuro joined him nervously.

"That's all history now," Shuugo assured him with a pat to his arm, not hesitating in noticing the muscle mass he'd gained.

"It's really been a while," Fukuro signed. When they were younger, he probably would've gravitated towards Shuugo when he said it, melting his body into his touch. But right now he felt rigid.

Consequences be damned, Shuugo found himself leaning into Fukuro instead. To his relief, Fukuro welcomed the touch.

In that moment, breaths matching pace and skin hot against skin, they were simple highschoolers again. There was no decade without talking, no crowd of muscle heads yodeling Taylor Swift in front of them, just Shuugo and Fukuro versus the rest of the world.

"Hey, Fukuro, who was the button for?" Shuugo heard himself asking. "At graduation."

From where his head was leaning against Fukuro's shoulder, Shuugo heard his breath stop short. His own hands tensed under him, worried that was the wrong question to ask.

"Does it matter?" Fukuro replied softly. "It's been ten years and they never gave me an answer."

Shuugo contemplated that for a moment.

"Was it for me?"

Unconsciously, Fukuro's hand moved to slide over Shuugo's. Very much consciously, Shuugo locked their pinkies together. He could hardly believe they were two almost-thirty-year-old men and not high school first-years again, making haphazard promises at their training camp.

"What if it was?" Fukuro grimaced, jaw set. Shuugo recognized the hardened expression easily, it was the same way he looked when he asked his mother for money or when he told his counselor he wanted to play volleyball professionally. He was awaiting rejection.

"Well," Shuugo adjusted his hand so their fingers interlocked. "Could I still accept?"

Fukuro laughed beside him, the picture of youth. Shuugo couldn't hold back a smile.

"You're a bit late, wouldn't you say?"

Shuugo matched his chuckles, warmth spreading through his chest as he felt Fukuro tug at his fingers playfully. "Sure, but it's not too late to catch up."

A matching smile tugged at Fukuro's lips, unfamiliar with Shuugo's new all-be-damned attitude. "Sure you can accept, but you have to answer a question."

Shuugo sat up a bit straighter, turning himself to face Fukuro. "What?"

"Why do you keep playing volleyball?"

Shuugo felt his world pause for Fukuro like it had many times before. It was by no means the perfect situation: they were not basking in the afterglow of victory under the gym lights, or celebrating goodbyes under falling cherry blossoms, or even privately laughing under the amber sun. It was not romantic in the least, and Shuugo was fairly sure Hinata and Kageyama should've gotten them kicked out already, but Shuugo had spent an entire decade regretting staying quiet and he didn't intend for it to last a second longer.

He greeted Fukuro with a smile that was only meant for him, grip on his hand tightening as he spoke quietly, certain that Fukuro was listening with bated breath.

"For you."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Come talk with me on twitter [@birbwrites_](https://twitter.com/birbwrites_)if you'd like :)


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